Aziz Haq

Aziz Haq
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A civil servant by profession, I endeavour to express through my writings how I view life.
Human sufferings, the transient nature of life and profound love for the world are my dominant themes.
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Recent pages by Aziz Haq

Your achievements in this life, however extraordinary they may be, will not last the inescapable ravages of eternity. Everything is destined to be destroyed in a manner as if those never existed.
It's a poem on the heart’s longing for a lost beloved.
Man is born with a particular aptitude or passion. But in the midst of the realities he finds himself, he often does not often have the respite or freedom to harness it in life and find emotional and personal fulfilment.
The monstrous vices and inconceivable criminality in the societies of human beings across the world are posing formidable challenges to our 21st century global civilization. Man’s failure to curb them might erode away human values and eventually bring the huge edifice of our civiliz...
We usually go to a fashion show to see the best and popular styles at a particular time and place. Arnott went too. But did he see fashions?
Why things considered precious, dear, sweet, etc, are precious, dear, sweet, etc? Why is death dreaded?
My translation of a Tagore song and a Nazrul song. To most of us, the rainy season is just a season of rain. For poets, however, there may be more in it than meets the eye. How do Rabindranath Tagore and Kazi Nazrul Islam, the two brightest luminaries in the firmament of a-thousand-ye...
When some of our dearest ones have left us one by one for the ‘’undiscovered country, from whose bourn/No traveller returns....’’ and we miss them badly, our yearning to see them might engender in us a vague wish to die a pain-free death. Also when the immortal soul is libera...
This poem portrays the characteristics of a big river. It is timeless and apparently everlasting. A big river that runs hundreds of miles deeply affects the people living on its two banks. It benefits them, it harms them –all with absolute indifference and callousness.
The mother language is the language of one’s soul. We might have knowledge of other languages, but more often than not, we have better command of our mother tongue. An immigrant’s linguistic capabilities must embody their mother tongue as well as the language of their country of a...
''Moon'' in this poem has meaning similar to that in Robert Browning's ''Andrea Del Sarto''. ‘’My face, my moon, my everybody's moon,/Which everybody looks on and calls his''-- ''Moon'' here may be also reminiscent of John Donne’s ‘’And sweare/ No where/Lives a woman true a...
In this short essay the writer gives his assessment of Bangalee poet Rabindranath Tagore, who was the first Asian to win Nobel Prize for literature. A great literary genius, Tagore, was awarded the Nobel Prize in 1913.
The poem constitutes an expression of the irresponsible form of male sexuality, which chiefly pursues selfish hedonistic pleasures.
The lover, who is not deterred by the apparent indifference of his beloved, tries hard with his arguments that verge on the humorous to kindle love and kindness in her heart.
Despite intense love, the relationship may sometimes fail between mismatched couples and lovers. But does love wither away altogether? The poem gives a perspective.
Sleep is comparable to a train in the sense that for every individual it seems to arrive at a particular time. You have to be in bed in time to avail of it. If you miss it, you have to perhaps wait for long hours sleepless in bed before the next sleep train arrives.
Perhaps everybody has a city or town in mind to which they feel very close. It is often their home town or the city where they were born and spent their childhood. You love and want to know your hometown like the back of your hand.
It is a poem. The poem is an expression of feelings evoked by the Bengali film ''Hazar Bachhor Dho-re'' (For A Thousand Years) based on a novel by Zahir Raihan, late Bangladeshi film director and writer. Similar scenarios repeat through human generations, as waves follow waves in the ...
True love does not diminish with passage of time or the beloved's age.
It is a poem about eternal and invisible flow of time. The inexorable traffic on the motorway seems to represent that flow. Time's ravages are absolute, ruthless and all-encompassing. Nothing in this world can escape them.
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